Chapter 37
“Did you talk to anyone at the hotel?” Noah said and muted hope edged his words. “The maids, the desk clerks, or guests staying on that floor that night?”
Summer shook her head. “We decided to leave that to you. Getting us all involved muddles things up.”
“We did call the detective on the case, Mignon,” Taryn said. “The tape you’re looking at is a copy. He took the original and urged us, strongly, to stay out of his case.”
“He should be grateful for your help,” Harper grumbled. Grumpy codger was how her aunt would describe the detective. Or worse, if Lila knew how he’d treated her niece.
Examining their interactions, Harper understood that she’d given the gruff detective a lot of ammo against her. Perhaps he wasn’t Satan in a rumpled suit after all.
Summer stopped the tape. “He did say thank you.”
Taryn made an exasperated sound. “He only did that because you laid the southern charm on thick. He would have given you a kidney if you’d asked.”
“I think he’s stressed out,” Summer countered. “This is a big case. It’s getting national media.”
Compassionate and sweet, Summer was sometimes overlooked for her brains. But she was sharp and could outpace the best computer geek in a face-to-face matchup. She even tracked down international criminals for fun. For her to look for the good in Mignon wasn’t a surprise.
“He’s probably wrung out from tormenting me,” Harper said and turned to her friends. “Thank you both for finding him a better suspect.”
“It was the least we could do for a fellow Muskrat,” Taryn said. Harper rose and hugged her. As their leader back in the day, before the three women became PI’s, Taryn had watched out for the ladies. If anyone got into trouble or had a need, she rallied to the cause. She’d been a fiercely loyal friend. Summer and Jess, too. Harper missed working with them.
With everything inside her, she hoped that Irving was serious about the job. She’d never considered changing careers until she was much older, but working for Brash & Brazen, in any capacity, would be a dream.
She turned and bent to hug Summer around the neck. “Thanks, honey. I love you. All of you.”
“Anything for you, darlin’,” Summer said with a catch in her throat. “I’ll send both of you a copy of the video to your phones.”
Noah rattled off his number.
“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Taryn asked. “Interrogate suspects, run surveillance on Betty Anne, or beat up Willard just because we can?”
No arm twisting for Taryn to do the last one. She and Willard had tangled for a few years over a sexual harassment lawsuit. He eventually settled for big bucks. And he still had that crooked nose to remind him not to mess with the former Muskrat cheerleading captain.
Harper laughed. Then a thought popped in. “Summer, there’s one thing you can do. Will you run financials on Old Jack Garvey? He’s fallen into money and I’d like to know how.”
Summer glanced at Taryn. The latter leaned back on the desk and crossed her arms. “The money came from my settlement. I asked him to keep it to himself.”
“Why?” Noah asked.
“I set up a fund to help out some of the older employees of Willard’s. Only the three of us and my husband, Rick, know about it.” She frowned. “Some of the people Willard fired without cause don’t have much retirement income. If I hear about a need, I send an anonymous check. Old Jack only knows about me because he kept tearing up the checks, thinking it was a scam.”
“He’s a character,” Harper said. “I owe him a big apology.” She walked to Taryn. “You are the best.”
Taryn hugged her. “Awe, shucks.” Everyone laughed at her sad attempt to mimic Summer’s drawl. “Willard’s blood money should go to help others.”
In this, they all agreed.
Harper was relieved to cross Jack off the suspect list.
“We should go,” Noah said. “Hopefully we can get to the hotel before Mignon and his minions descend on the place.”
They headed out of the office. Jess got off the elevator when the doors opened. She stopped in mid stride. Carrying a big camera, she was dressed all in black with her hair twisted up into a scrappy tangle at the back of her neck. “Hey, I missed the fun.”
Harper smiled and glanced at the camera. “It looks like you were making your own fun. You didn’t get that from the baby store.”
Jess lifted the camera. “I was watching a guy win second in a strong man contest. What makes that interesting is that he’s ripped off his former employer to the tune of fifty thousand dollars in workman’s comp. Last Friday when he went to the doctor, he was in a cast from his neck to his hips.”
“He made a remarkable recovery,” Noah joked.
“Obviously, heaven sent a miracle.” Jess leaned to hug Harper. “I need to get these pics downloaded and off to our client ASAP. See you soon?”
Harper nodded. “Yes, absolutely.” She and Noah watched Jess go, walking confidently into the office in killer high boots. “My friends are so badass.”
“They are,” he agreed and tugged her into the elevator. Easing her against his chest, he lowered his head. “I’m getting you those boots.”
She squirmed as he tickle-nuzzled her neck with his chin shadow. The man was a serious neck-nuzzler. The doors opened on the first floor and ended his play. She pushed him back.
“Boots later.” She led him out. “Let’s go catch a killer.”
* * * *
The hotel wasn’t on lockdown, but according to the manager, Tiffany, the two rooms attached to the daredevil’s exit and entry were closed off by order of the police.
That was okay, because Noah had no way to lift prints or collect DNA anyway. He wanted to know how the guy got into the first room and what he did once he got to the last room.
Tiffany was no more than twenty and looked at him with appreciation as she twirled her hair. Although he had no official capacity in which to twist her arm for information, who was he to say no if she willingly offered it up?
He looked straight into her eyes and grinned. “I find it hard to believe that someone so young is the manager of a hotel of this size. That’s impressive.”
The young woman smiled and bit her bottom lip. “I’m the afternoon desk manager, but I have hopes of like taking over William’s job someday.”
He assumed William was the manager. Instinct told him to steer clear of that guy. Tiffany was his target.
“I can see you in charge. You give off the confidence needed for a good management professional.”
“That’s so sweet.” More hair twirling.
Noah leaned on the counter. “I bet you know everything that goes on around here.” She nodded. “Can we talk somewhere . . . private about the murder?”
The girl nodded and giggled nervously. “How about my office, Noah?” The way she breathed out his name made him inwardly wince. The young woman was barely legal. Thankfully, he’d brought his own chaperone.
Tiffany walked over to talk to a coworker, then opened a low swinging door. “Come this way.”
The young woman frowned as Harper walked past her, as if noticing her for the first time. If she had any hopes of getting Noah in any form of undress, those dreams vanished.
He wasn’t playing games, or planning to lead her on, but had to get her back to his side. “My sister and I appreciate your help.”
Happy Tiffany returned. “Your sister?”
He leaned to the girl. “My mom makes me take her along on my investigations. Otherwise she’d sit on the couch all day watching talk shows and eating cheese puffs.”
Tiffany looked over her shoulder at Harper and back, then whispered, “Cheese puffs are so unhealthy.”
Noah could feel the hot sharp jab of Harper’s glare between his shoulder blades. “I think Mom is more worried that Cricket will secretly move her dumbass boyfriend and his six kids into her house while she’s in Florida, and she’ll never get them out.”
Tiffany’s eyes went wide as they went into the closet-sized office. “Your parents named her Cricket?”
Of all the BS he’d laid on her during this brief interaction, that’s what she took from this? Maybe she was future manager material after all.
His expression turned grim. He lowered his voice. “If you ask me, I think that set her up for failure.” He pulled out her chair and pushed it back in when she sat. “When you have kids, think of my sister and choose their names wisely, Tiff.”
Her head bobbed. “I will.”
Harper glared when he glanced at her. But there was a reason for this odd conversation. Tiffany connected with him on a personal level with her attraction to him and sympathized with his family situation. Although he’d never play with her emotions, she was more likely to be helpful with a connection than if he’d stormed in and started grilling her for information.
Time for the interrogation. “If it’s okay with you, I have some questions about the night before Gerald Covington was murdered.”
She bit her thumbnail and her eyes turned worried. “Will I get in trouble with my boss?”
“What happens in this office stays in this office.”
Clearly, she’d seen the Las Vegas slogan. She cheerfully clapped her hands together. “What do you want to know?”
He pulled up the video and showed her a still of the man on the balcony. He didn’t plan to show her the acrobatics. “Do you know which room this is?”
With a fingertip she counted across from right to left. “It’s 602. There is no 601 on that floor. We had a fire in there a month ago and are still waiting for the insurance payout to remodel the room.”
He jumped on that. “Are all those rooms connected?” Even with the fire damage, wouldn’t there still be a 601? He let it pass.
“All but those on the far end. They’re singles,” Tiffany said. “Some customers like to rent two suites if they have a family, or just like the extra space to party. That’s how the room got burned. A party.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “I assume the doors both have locks.” She nodded. “Would it be difficult for a large man to force the doors?”
Frowning, she said, “I suppose not. We’ve never had anyone try.”
Noah turned to Harper. “I think we found how he got in.” They nodded. He forwarded to where the guy jimmied the glass door next to Covington’s suite. “Which room is this?”
Again, she counted across. “605.”
He’d already figured it out, but wanted confirmation. If a strong guy could force the other door, then he could get into Gerald’s room, too.
“Was there damage to the connecting door in Gerald Covington’s suite?” Harper asked.
Tiffany thought for a moment. “Not that I remember,” she said and then flushed. “I snuck my boyfriend in after the police said we could take down the tape. He’s kind of a freak for creepy stuff.”
Noah took notes. “Did the police talk to the guests or employees on duty the afternoon or evening before the murder?”
“They did.” Tiffany nodded. She’d proven to be a wealth of information. “No one saw or heard anything.”
Damn. “Was anyone checked into 602?”
“Not that night. There were guests in three and four.”
Strange those guests hadn’t heard noise on their balcony. “What about 605?”
Tiffany nodded. “The room was booked for a guest who said he needed a late check-in. We held the room all night but he never showed up.”
“Because he was already there,” he said to Harper. She was nearly jumping out of her skin.
The desk phone buzzed. Tiffany answered and listened. “The police?” Then, “Send them back.”
Noah darted a glance at Harper; she was already on her feet. “Do you have a back entrance to the parking lot?”
“Go out and right,” Tiffany said slowly. “All the way back and then right again.”
He reached to shake her hand. “Thanks for the help and tell the police everything you told us.”
“Okay.” She looked and sounded confused.
Harper rushed out the door and darted right. Noah knew they’d probably get their butts arrested by Mignon for interfering with the investigation, even if the charges were bogus. They had a right to investigate.
They hurried down to the end of the hallway.
“Hey!” a voice called out.
Mignon. She made the second right. An exit door loomed ahead. They pushed through and took off running. By the time they got to the car, they were laughing.
After taking a minute to catch her breath, she took his hand. He hoped she planned to go in for a kiss. Instead, she led him to the back of the car and positioned him a foot back from the bumper. “Stand right there.”
“Why?”
She released his hand and jangled her keys. “I’m going to back Harvey over you, pull forward, and then go again.”
Revenge was at hand. He liked feisty. “Hate the messenger,” he said with a wink. “But not the results, sis.”